


Forty-five Minutes

by Sunnyrea



Category: White Christmas (1954)
Genre: M/M, Period Typical Attitudes, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-13
Updated: 2018-01-13
Packaged: 2019-03-04 07:48:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,862
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13359798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunnyrea/pseuds/Sunnyrea
Summary: Phil Davis realizes he is in love with his best friend Bob Wallace on the day of Bob’s wedding.





	Forty-five Minutes

Phil Davis realizes he is in love with his best friend Bob Wallace on the day of Bob’s wedding.

The Christmas production up in Vermont spent time in the newspapers, the good-hearted story of two former army men putting on a show to help their former General. Bob had tried to keep the publicity and notoriety down, but when a famous performer such as Bob Wallace goes on the Ed Harrison show to plead for assistance from the 151st airborne to create a Christmas miracle, people tend to notice. Who would not want to learn more about a story like that? 

Most people did not see the famous show itself with its lines of military men back in uniform. However, the whole cast returned to New York to continue the show where it ought to be, now with the added edition of Betty and Judy Hayes to their lineup. The General’s hotel up in Vermont soon became flush with guests, not just for the Vermont snow, but for the story of this General and his benefactors. Who wouldn’t want to meet the hero that commanded Bob Wallace and Phil Davis? Down in New York, the quartet made Broadway their home.

If you were to ask Phil, he would say that it all turned out just as it should, especially in terms of Bob and Betty.

“This is what we wanted, isn’t it?” Judy says to Phil backstage as Bob and Betty perform a duet for their sold out crowd.

“The two of you definitely add something missing to the show.” He grins at her. “And getting your act where you wanted, right?”

“No,” Judy says with a laugh and bop of her red-feathered plomb for the next number on his head. “Bob and Betty.”

Phil makes an ‘ah ha’ face then loops his arm through hers and twirls them around. “Of course, madam, a perfect couple as we planned!”

“Even what with our fake engagement mistake.” Judy purses her lips. “But worked out in the end, didn’t it?”

“Certainly seems so.” Phil extracts his arm from her and pushes her feathers against her nose. “Got us some good numbers out of it too.”

Judy laughs. “You only think about the show?”

“I’m thinking about my forty-five minutes.”

Judy purses her lips at him as the audience begins to applaud at the end of Bob and Betty’s number. “Well, good on you for your forty-five minutes that you always talk of. Me? I think we should think more about when Bob is going to be the one announcing the real engagement.”

Phil looks out at the stage as Bob kisses Betty’s hand just before the two of them make their exit and the backdrop on the stage shifts around for Judy’s tap number. Judy cups Phil’s cheek with her gloved hand then slides past him, a smile full of teeth for the audience in place as the music starts. Phil’s eyes stay on Bob and Betty as they disappear into the dark of the wings on the opposite side of the stage, the smile on Bob’s face as he looks at Betty.

“Yeah… that,” Phil mutters quietly to himself.

 

The four of them go out for dinner together after the show almost every night; Bob and Betty seated on one side of the table, Phil and Judy on the other – boy, girl, boy, girl. Sometimes they take in a late night show, comedy and cabaret underground at the Blue Angel or first class stardom with friends of theirs on stage at the Copacabana. They always appear as the pair of couples now, everyone’s favorite of Bob and Betty but not to be overlooked, Betty’s sister and Bob’s production partner. The pair of them are the second act, the B level couple though neither of them care too much, especially when they are not a real couple at all.

“And you just said dinner,” Bob complains through the smoky atmosphere of the dark club Phil can no longer remember the name of. “Aren’t you supposed to be encouraging me to settle down, not spend all hours in twelve different night clubs.”

“I think you need to learn to count,” Phil counters.

“Yes,” Betty says, “this seems like number two to me and we did have dinner at the first club.”

“We promised the new girl in the chorus we would catch her song here,” Judy cuts in. “Shouldn’t we be trying to help new entertainers.”

Betty smirks. “Glad to see you still care.”

Judy laughs back. “I can give back as well as I’ve received.”

Phil snorts but refrains from any ignoble humor. Bob gives him a look across the table with a quick shake of his head. As though Phil would really embarrass Bob so, but in his defense, if he had, Judy set it up first.

“When exactly does this girl go on anyway?” Bob asks. “Here I’m thinking about sleeping tonight and we are near closing time.”

“One o’clock isn’t closing time, Bob,” Phil says as he takes a sip of his Old Fashioned. “Or are you that old yet?”

“If I am, so are you.”

“She should be on soon,” Judy says as she swirls around the wine in her glass. “She’s not the headliner.”

“Is anyone here?” Phil asks. “The last act seemed like vaudeville off the prairie circuit.”

Bob kicks Phil under the table. “Why don’t you shout it, Phil, and get us kicked out, huh?”

Phil shrugs. “I’m the comedic one, remember? They’ll take me for a buffoon and give you a free round for my recommendation.”

“Or the eccentric and charge us extra,” Betty counters.

Judy laughs and some blond hair escapes from her well-crafted bun. Betty leans across the table to whisper something in Judy’s ear and they both laugh again. Phil shoots a look at Bob. Bob only shrugs and shakes his head. Phil taps his foot against Bob’s and raises his eyebrows toward Betty still leaned over close to Judy. Bob smiles almost instantly, twisting his whiskey neat around on the table.

“Not the lonely miserable man now?” Phil asks with a grin.

“No, just the happy man.”

Phil snorts again, pulling a cigarette case of his jacket. “Is that all? Have I lost my co-producer? You know we still have a show.”

Bob smirks. “What, didn’t you want me to settle down? And anyhow, we’re all in the show together. Thought you were looking for me to slow down?”

Phil taps one end of a cigarette against the case as he searches his pocket for his lighter. “Well I did, Bob, but you worry me. Only four shows a week and no big plans in the works?” He flashes a grin as he turns out his jacket pockets. “Don’t you have a middle ground? What happened to big shot Bob Wallace?”

Bob laughs. “I’m here enough for you, Phil. Maybe you’ve just forgotten what a regular pace of life feels like. One job not enough for you now? What happened to your forty-five minutes?”

“I’ve got them all right,” Phil replies, feeling about in his pants pockets. “Next thing you’ll be telling me you’re going to quit the show for the family life.”

“A white picket fence?”

Phil looks up from his search with a grin. “Oh, exactly, and maybe a bit more respectable with a ring or what not.”

Bob smiles, the expression less the showman and more the slow moving, settle down time. “Sooner than you might think.” 

Then Bob pulls his lighter out of his top pocket and hands it across the table to Phil. Their fingers touch for a moment on the silver metal and Bob gives Phil a ‘gotchya’ smile. Phil pauses for two seconds with the lighter held over the table and Bob gazing back at him. Phil thinks Betty is the luckiest girl in the world with blue eyes like those adoring her every day.

“Hey there, Mr. Wallace?” Betty suddenly says, her shoulder pressing against Bob’s. “Give a girl a good time and ask her for a dance?”

Bob sits up straighter, his hand pulling away from Phil’s to touch Betty’s shoulder. “Ms. Haynes, would you favor me with a dance?”

Betty smiles as Judy stifles a wine laced chuckle. “Why, Mr. Wallace, I am so glad you asked.”

The pair smile and stand up together, Bob taking Betty’s hand to lead her to the dance floor. The singer on the stage croons something close to Bob’s style and even more like Sinatra. Phil watches them, lighting the end of his cigarette. Bob’s arm curves around Betty’s back over the deep blue of her dress. Bob smiles at her, nodding at something she says. She kisses his cheek and he turns the both of them slowly among other couples stealing glances at the well-known Broadway pair. Phil thinks they make the prettiest couple in the whole club.

“What do you think, Phil?” Judy says beside him as she steals his cigarette case. “Wedding bells?”

Phil huffs and glances at her. “You know something I don’t?”

Judy smirks, cigarette between her lips. “I know when a woman gets that look in her eye.” Phil lights her cigarette. Judy sucks in some smoke then blows it out slowly to the side. “And I know my sister.”

Phil nods as he watches the couple dance, tapping ash off his cigarette absently without a care for the carpet. “We’ll have to choreograph a whole number for their reception.” He glances at Judy again, stealing her glass of wine and taking a sip. “Small ensemble or full cast do you think?”

Judy chuckles. “Oh, small ensemble, of course. With the way she goes, we will have to leave it couples only. Maybe even a matched number with them and us.”

Phil chuckles. “Right, your sister act.”

“Who knows, might make the whole event a double act?” Judy raises her eyebrows when Phil gives her a sharp look. “I’ve looked good in white.”

Phil looks away again from Judy’s hopeful expression. On the dancefloor, Bob dips Betty a little so she smiles more at him and touches his chest when Bob pulls her back up.

“A white wedding is just what Bob needs,” Phil says as he takes a long drag of his cigarette. “Make him a happy man.”

 

When Bob finally does decide to ask Betty to marry him, he talks to Phil first.

“Phil.” Bob sweeps into their dressing room after the end of the show grinning like a Tony award win night. “Got something to show you.”

Phil stops half way from changing his suit, pants still on but suspenders around his hips. He holds up his hands in a ‘show me gesture.’ Bob pulls something small out of his pants pocket, flips it around then suddenly it opens facing Phil. It is a ring box with a ring inside – gold band, big diamond, the whole shebang. Phil stares for a moment and feels something clench low in his gut. Then he grins wide, pulling the box from Bob’s hand.

“Oh, now Bob, you went for the classic ‘drown in one go’ rock, huh?”

Bob chuckles. “It’s not that big.”

“I don’t know about that, don’t the ladies rate them by the tonnage?”

Bob laughs again and puts his hands in his pockets. “Think she’ll like it?”

“What girl doesn’t want diamonds, right?” Phil holds the box out back to Bob. “Planning to ask her after the closing number one night, make the crowd go wild?”

“Dinner,” Bob says as he takes the box back, fingers briefly brushing Phil’s. “We have a reservation for tonight.” Bob blows out a breath. “Can’t think how to ask her.”

Phil cocks his head. “I think the script’s written on that one, just need the ‘will you’ followed by the ‘marry me,’ right Bob?”

“Sure, yeah, but I still have to say it.”

“Can’t be worse than the war, right?”

Bob gives him a look. Then they both laugh and say, “Yes, it can,” together.

They room falls silent for a moment, Bob staring at the ring in the box and Phil staring at him. Then Bob snaps the box closed and Phil starts slightly at the sound. Phil clears his throat and holds out his hand to shake Bob’s.

“Good luck.”

Bob shakes once with a grin. “I’m a lucky man, Phil.”

“She’s a lucky girl,” Phil replies quietly, squeezing Bob’s hand.

Bob chuckles, pulls his hand out of Phil’s and slides the ring box back into his pocket. He pulls at the cuffs of his shirt drawing Phil’s eye. Then he holds out his hands. “How do I look? Ready to propose?”

Phil looks him up and down – head to toe, the smashing entertainer, the army captain, the handsome, blue-eyed crooner and his best friend. Phil’s lips twist so he finds it hard to smile, maybe it’s the change, the expectation turning into something real or maybe it is the look on Bob’s face. He looks happy. Phil finally smiles. “Like a million bucks.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Bob says. “Let you know how it goes.”

“If Judy doesn’t call me first. I hear sisters get excited about things like engagements.”

Bob huffs. “Got a point there.”

“Get going,” Phil says. “Can’t be late, now can you?”

Bob nods, turns on his heel and hurries back out through the door. When the door closes, Phil sits suddenly down in the chair beside the long mirror. He stares at himself in the mirror, half dressed and looking pale. He smiles wide, a showman smile, then nods to himself. It is just what he wanted, Bob with his girl and settled and happy.

 

All of Broadway and even select sections of Hollywood predict the marriage of Bob Wallace and Betty Haynes to be the social event of the season. Numerous magazines and newspapers contact the couple for the exclusive. How did he propose? When is the big day? 

Bob asks Phil to be his best man and Betty asks Judy the same. They match up just as always – bride, groom, maid, man.

“Together again?” Judy says.

Phil flips the announcement card around in his hand and makes a cartoonish face. “Looks like we’ll be in-laws finally!”

Judy laughs. “Of a kind.” She snatches the card from his hand. “If only in the match making.”

Bob tells Phil he wants a small ceremony, something quiet. New York, however, will allow nothing less than a bash. What with family, old army pals, at least half the cast of the show and the guest list soon blooms to two hundred plus attendants.

“What did I say about needing to choreograph a number for the reception?” Phil says to Judy while the pair of them follow behind Bob and Betty carrying caterer lists and flower shop names.

“Might need to choreograph the planning at this rate,” Judy quips.

Phil scoffs high and ducks under a bolt of fabric brought out to wrap around Betty as the sales girl shoos Bob and Phil out of the room. Judy grins wide and waves a hand at Phil’s harangued face.

“Mustn’t see the dress before the big day!” the shop girl insists.

“Looked more like a table cloth to me,” Phil says as the door slams in their faces.

Bob grins. “If she wanted to wear a table cloth, I’d be fine with it.”

“Oh no, don’t go all modern on me.” Phil wags a finger. “What would I tell the papers?”

Bob shrugs as he turns away toward the entrance of the shop. “What can I say? Love makes you crazy, right?”

Phil’s throat feels tight, something he cannot define in his chest. “Right.”

 

On the day of the wedding, Phil waits with Bob in Bob’s dressing room. They both wear the classic black tuxedo, a red carnation on Bob’s lapel and a pink one on Phil’s. Phil paces near the door, checking his watch every two minutes and checking his pocket for the rings the other minutes. Bob has retied his bow tie six times already in front of the mirror.

“Should have just gone with the clip on,” Bob grumbles as he pulls the bow out once again.

“Should have brought the wardrobe department with us.”

“Oh yeah and which of them can tie a good bow tie?”

“Better than you right now.”

Bob sighs. “I’m the groom. Aren’t I allowed the jitters?”

Phil smiles at Bob’s frustration. “You’re allowed whatever you want today.”

Bob sighs once more, his fingers fumbling. “Except a terrible tie.” He looks at Phil in the mirror. “All right, I give up.” He turns around and gestures at the half-finished tie around his neck. “Can you help a man out?”

“Save your life again?”

Bob snorts. “I’m starting to think you didn’t save it the first time.”

Phil makes a mock hurt expression. “Oh well, don’t ask me to push you away from falling buildings under fire ever again. If I’d known at the time I’d have to put up with this…”

“Har har, thank you Mr. Comedy.” He gestures to the tie again. “Just once more then?”

Phil steps forward with a dramatic sigh and begins to unknot the mess Bob made of the bow tie. “Well, as long as it’s the last time.”

“It will be,” Bob says quietly.

Realization suddenly hits Phil smack in the chest. It might be the jokes about saving Bob’s life. It might be the way Bob’s voice drops, serious and warm. It might be how close they stand to each other, Bob’s neck under his fingers. It might be the bow tie or the tuxedo or the fact that this is Bob’s wedding day. All at once, the ache Phil has carried in his gut for months now, the odd difficulty he has had smiling since Bob and Betty truly became serious, it all makes sense. Phil has not pushed and prodded and schemed to make Bob happy because he is Phil’s best friend, no. Phil has, all this time, wanted to make the man he loves happy. Phil is in love with Bob.

“Phil?” Bob says when Phil stops moving, his hands clutching the ends of the bow tie. “Something wrong? Didn’t rip my tie, did I?”

“No,” Phil says quickly, his hands moving once more. He swallows hard and clears his throat. “Just can’t believe you finally found a nice girl to settle you down.”

Bob chuckles, lifting his chin to give Phil room. “Oh yeah, guess I better thank that arm of yours for keeping us on that train. Imagine if I’d finally put my foot down, huh? Lucky you’ve got that big soppy look of yours or we wouldn’t be here.”

Phil makes a choked off noise that ends up going high in his register. “Right.” He flips the ends of the bowtie around, making a knot. “Lucky.”

Phil focuses on the bowtie, on sliding bowed ends back and forth to even them out. He tries not to think about what this means, what Bob means to him, what that means about Phil. Phil works in show business, in theater, he knows that kind of man. He just never thought he was one of them.

“But seriously, Phil.” Phil looks up at Bob’s eyes as his tone changes. “Thank you for everything you did for us. Guess I always did need a push, right?”

Phil stares at Bob – his Bob – and nods once. “Of course, Bob.” He finishes evening out the ends of the bow, matching sides and pulled tight. He pulls his hands away quickly and steps back. He smiles and tilts his head, his voice soft. “Pretty as a picture.”

Bob chuckles as he turns around to look in the mirror. “Right, picture of something.” He runs a hand over his hair, pulls at the lapels of his jacket then turns around once more. “All right, nothing to do but to do it.”

Phil nods – his Bob, his blue eyes, his voice, handsome as Phil has always noticed in his tuxedo now – then Phil turns to the door, gripping the handle with a hand that shakes. “On with the show.”

 

The ceremony takes little time, a Bible verse or two, to have and to hold, Bob’s vows about how a showman needs his partner on stage and off so Betty tears up and Phil’s heart breaks. The finale hits with a double ‘I do,’ one grand kiss and the crowd goes wild. When they walk down the aisle for their curtain call, arm in arm, the guests stand and clap all the way as the pair parade out the door into their shower of rice, as good as bouquets. Phil would call it a smash hit, a ‘wow’ on the pay scale. 

Come time for the reception, the wedding party sit at a long table with their other hundreds of guests at circular tables crowding the festive event hall. They all shoot glances up to the main table where their famous couple and famous attendants sit. Most of the guests are famous themselves but this pair performs the show tonight. Yet Phil thinks he might be the only one really putting on an act. After all, the best man gives a speech.

“Knock ‘em dead,” Judy whispers in his ear just as Phil starts to stand, tapping his spoon on his glass.

“All right now, quiet now,” Phil says with his best sideman voice and he taps the glass once more. “Let me say some schmaltz about the groom so you can get to the good stuff about the bride.”

The guests laugh just as they should. Phil clears his throat, turning enough to see the room but also see Bob looking up at him from his seat right beside Phil. Phil stares down at Bob for one beat, one moment without the smile. He thinks, if Bob is happy then that should make him happy; Bob settled down with a nice girl and ten children, just like Bob should be. Phil wants Bob happy more than anything else in the world. Phil grins wide and proud and happy as Bob looks beside Betty.

Phil turns to the crowd, his glass in the air. “What can I say about Bob Wallace? He is an entertainer, a performer, a producer, and a man who was lucky enough not to be crushed by a falling building in the war. I won’t bother to tell you who might have helped with that.”

A ripple of laughter runs through the crowd, mostly from the other vets in attendance. He sees Bob shake his head and hears his sigh.

“But here he is,” Phil continues. “Finally stopping that Broadway pace with a wonderful, talented woman who I know will bring him all manner of happiness, not to mention a great duet partner.”

The room chuckles again, a few woops from what must be fellow stage performers. Phil hears Betty chuckle as well and Bob whisper something in her ear.

“Bob is a real swell guy.” Phil laughs once awkwardly at his use of the word ‘swell,’ something so inadequate, so lacking. “He is a great friend and a great partner.” Phil dares a glance down to see Bob watching him, a small smile on his face. Phil looks away again. “You’re getting the best man there is, Betty,” Phil continues, looking at Betty now instead. “He has a heart as big as the stages he graces and a commitment as long as the productions he runs.”

Phil clears his throat again. He thinks of Germany and the sound of Bob’s voice when he sang about snow on Christmas, Phil’s hand on the crank of the music box. Did it happen then? Has Phil been lost all this time? Or was it something gradual, something he could never have known or stopped? Would he have always ended up here, such an idiot in love without knowing it until far too late?

“I wish you both a world of happiness.” Phil raises his glass so everyone mimics him with cheers and glass clinking all around. Phil turns to tap his glass against Bob’s. Bob nods at him and his smile is far too fond. Phil turns back to the room and cries. “Now listen to Judy say something even better than this old ham.”

The room laughs once again under Phil’s ministrations as Judy stands, waving her hands for quiet and shooting an amused look at Phil. Once Phil sits down, and Judy begins to talk about love and sisterhood, Phil downs his entire glass of champagne in one chug. Then he plasters a smile on his face. He is happy. He is very happy.

 

When the time comes for dancing, Phil and Judy dance together as expected. After the first dance, Betty and Bob encourage all their wedding party and family to take to the floor. So Phil grips Judy’s hand and keeps his eyes somewhere on her hair, somewhere safe.

“You're never going to ask me, are you?”

Phil frowns. “Ask you?”

“This is a wedding, Phil,” Judy says as Phil turns them closer to the edge of the dance floor. “What would you think I mean?”

Phil frowns and does not meet her eye. “I thought it bad form to propose to a woman at her sister’s wedding.”

Judy shakes her head. “Not now. Not any time, Phil.”

Phil sighs finally meeting her gaze. “We're not a couple, Judy, we never really were. Might be a bit more of a surprise if I did.”

“Maybe.”

“Would you really want me to, Judy? Now? Ever? Or is this just sister jealousy?”

Judy frowns and looks away. “There's no need to be an ass, Phil. This is a wedding.”

“Yeah, and not ours.”

Judy huffs and steps out of his arms, off the dance floor. “You're not being funny.”

“I'm not trying to be.”

“Some kind of man you are, Phil.” 

Phil watches as she crosses her arms and begins to march away. Phil curses under his breath then follows her quickly, gripping her arm. 

“Look, I’m sorry.” Phil steers her around and walks her back toward the main table. “I'm sorry Judy. It's not you, you're swell. You know I think you’re grand.”

“That all?”

“What do you want from me Judy?” He asks quietly as they reach the end of the mostly deserted main table.

“I thought we deserved a chance, don't you?” She gestures out toward the busy dance floor. “Bob and Betty.” Then she turns back to him with a smile. “Phil and Judy. Just seems right.”

Phil shakes his head, watching Bob and Betty turn around the dance floor, graceful as if they have practiced and they probably have. He thinks of matching dances, side by side in matching suits on stages billed ‘Wallace and Davis.’ 

“I wouldn't do that to you, Judy.” Phil tears his eyes away to stare down at the table. “Not now.”

Judy suddenly touches his arm so he starts in surprise despite knowing she stands right there. 

“What's wrong, Phil?” She asks him seriously. 

Phil purses his lips, picks up a glass of red wine, still full on the table, could have belonged to anyone and takes a sip. “It’s a wedding, Judy, everything is wonderful.” Judy gives him a look but Phil gestures to the dance floor with the wine glass. “Go dance, Judy, you’re the best one here after all. Shouldn’t waste the talent.”

Judy glances at the dance floor and Phil uses her brief distraction to turn and walk quickly away. He weaves around tables, avoiding a pair of women only two months on in the second act chorus line, then finds a door leading to the outside balcony. The air is just chill enough to keep one’s jacket on but certainly not cold; April is that kind of month. Phil wonders absently why the pair did not go full tradition and make Betty a June bride.

“Worried about the heat?” Phil mutters to himself. “Not so bad in New York.”

He takes a big gulp of the wine, nearly spilling some on his white shirt. He would not care so much now. He has plenty of shirts and suits and tuxedos and he thinks that he will probably never wear this one again. 

“Thinking about rehearsing the tap number?”

Phil tenses, wishes he had picked somewhere else to hide, and turns slowly at Bob’s voice, smile in place. “Well the music in there doesn’t really fit with the heel click and my shoes are on the soft side.”

Bob chuckles at Phil’s sorely lacking joke, hands in his pockets. “Yeah well, Judy and Betty have taken over the floor anyhow. Something about an old routine.”

“Trip down memory lane?”

“Yeah, early days of the sister act it seems.”

Phil just nods, pretending to be interested in the bottom of his glass.

“Made me think of our early days.”

Phil looks up at him. “The under fire or the dancing?”

“Weren’t they the same?”

Phil smiles a little. “Guess so.”

Bob does a quick soft shoe and side steps to the left closer to Phil. He smiles as he dances an easy circle around Phil. He does a lazy twirl then stops in front of Phil. 

Phil’s lips twist and he sips his wine again. “Guess ours weren’t always so complicated.”

“Not at the beginning but as a producer I expect complex foot work.”

Phil chuckles. “That Tahiti number with the flowers all over the stage? Fancy footwork and two broken ankles.”

“That was your idea.”

“Me?” Phil points to himself. “I asked for a pool of water on stage so we could get the synchronized swimmers but you wanted moderation.”

“Well, how was I supposed to know petals could trip you up?”

“I believe it’s called ‘slipping.’”

“Oh right.”

“Then crashing.”

“That one is familiar.”

They grin at each other, the moon catching Bob’s face as he paces languidly across the wide balcony. “So what are you doing out here?” Bob asks. “Thought you’d want to get in some time with Judy now that you two don’t dance on stage together as much.”

“Well, she out paces me, what can I say?”

Bob smiles. “Not so interested anymore?”

“In Judy?”

“Yeah. ‘Look at those big brown eyes’ you said.”

“A man can comment on something he notices.”

Bob scoffs, tapping Phil on the chest. “Right, Phil. Mr. find-Bob-a-wife.”

Phil takes a gulp of the wine and fakes a casual stroll to move away from Bob. “And so I did. Job done. I should get a medal for the effort.”

“Well, how about I find you one, can pin it right on your collar.”

“All the thanks I need.”

“And Judy?”

Phil frowns, blows out a breath and looks out over the city below, the banquet hall for such Broadway elite up on the penthouse floor. “Judy is swell, Bob.” He seems stuck on that word today.

“Then what’s the hang up?”

Phil shoots a glare at Bob. “Whose wedding is this Bob? Not mine.”

Bob gives him a look. “Well fine, don’t get all bent out of shape about it, just asking a question.”

Phil looks away again. He cannot think of a joke to diffuse the tension, not when all his can think about is how his life is turning on end, how he cannot understand his blindness before and how obvious it all feels now. Phil gulps down the last of the wine in the glass, wishing it were something stronger. 

He thinks about the sound of Bob’s voice when he sings, not a peppy stage stopper, not even the love ballads with Betty by his side. No, Phil thinks about Bob sitting at the piano with a pencil in his hand. Phil sits beside him or stands over his shoulder. Bob tapping keys and singing quietly half to himself before rising louder, turning to Phil as he figures out the right notes, the right melody to lead the song on. He thinks of Bob looking at him with that smile of inspiration, of realization at a new thing made as Phil catches on and sings with him. Bob stands up, Phil at his side, the two of them trying out a front, back step with the chorus Bob just wrote, invisible hats in their hands and dancing around each other until they run out of new music. He thinks of Bob as his, as his friend, his partner, the talent, the charm, Bob singing just with Phil before anyone else. He thinks of how he loves Bob more than any other time in those moments.

“Phil?”

Phil turns his head to Bob standing right beside him now, close so their hips could touch or their hands brush. “You’re happy, Bob?”

Bob makes a wry face. “That a question?”

“You and Betty, husband and wife and baby someday.”

Bob laughs. “Don’t get ahead of yourself.”

“But that was the deal.” Phil puts his glass down on the stone rail of the balcony. “Remember? Ten children and five minutes each.”

Bob laughs again, nodding his head. “I do remember you saying something crazy like that.”

“Ten too many? If you only have five I’ll have to raise your requirement to ten minutes.” Phil says, the words joking but his voice low.

“I think five would be plenty enough.”

Phil nods. “Good. Bob and Betty. Happy and married.”

“What are you getting at, Phil? Are you worried about us already?”

“No,” Phil replies quietly. “Not you.”

Bob turns so he is perpendicular to Phil, closer now, too close. Phil realizes how this proximity always felt, that tingling sensation like firecrackers on his skin. “What then?”

Phil turns so they are face to face and further apart. “I’m just glad you’re happy because, well, you deserve it, don’t you? You’re…” He thinks words like ‘charming, amazing, perfect, beautiful.’ “You’re the best partner a man could have and I am glad Betty can be your partner now.”

Bob smiles, genuine and perhaps touched. “Aw now, you’re not getting soft on me, are you?”

Phil chuckles, feels nauseous like stage fright and turns himself away. “Wouldn’t dream of it.” He touches the glass on the ledge, twisting it around by the stem. “I am entirely selfish.”

“Oh really?”

Phil looks at Bob over his shoulder. “Just thinking of my forty-five minutes.”

Bob’s face pulls into a grin and his shakes his head, his expression amused and gorgeous in the moonlight.

Then Betty’s voice calls from the door, “Bob! Come back in, my mother wants a dance with you.”

Bob looks at Phil, sighing once. “Duty calls.” He points a finger at Phil. “Can start on your forty-five minutes.” He flashes a grin then saunters over to the door and Betty.

Phil watches as Bob walks back inside, the door closing, his hand gripping Betty’s with the diamond on her finger and smiles on both their faces. Phil leans back against the balcony edge. He checks his watch then slides his hands into his pockets.

“Forty-five minutes,” he whispers. “All to myself.”


End file.
